


Of True Love and Turnips

by Happers



Category: Prison Boys (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gay Character, M/M, Nagi is an idiot, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Sexuality Crisis, Smut, Very late birthday present, What Have I Done, this fandom needs fics, why is this so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happers/pseuds/Happers
Summary: Nagi is not exactly content in the wake of the earthquake, but he's managing. Of course, that's before Mitsuru decides to re-appear out of nowhere, and shouldn't that guy be busy with bureaucratic nonsense relating to, hello, the ongoing investigation, just like everyone else? And don't even ask about where the turnips come in.Alternative title: Nagi Catches Feelings





	Of True Love and Turnips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ccodev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccodev/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Jack, you hoe. I wanted to make this longer, but I'm already late by a month and I'm too lazy to write another twenty pages. I really hope you enjoy.  
> Also, this is my first time writing smut. You have been warned.

Nagi shovels another handful of dirt, then stands up to stretch his aching back and wipe the sweat off his brow. His gaze searches out the ruined remains of Akasuka, some still smoking from the recent fires that had come hand-in-hand with the earthquake. There were still people, children and elders alike, some soot-covered and some not, some wearing clothes and some not, wandering the streets limply, disbelief and grief written over their faces.

He looks down at his feet at the lifeless face he’d just uncovered from the remains of a building on which too much earth from a nearby hill had collapsed. The woman who had run to him for help, crying, pleading “Please help me find my brother!”, she kneels with tears in her eyes and lets out a wailing cry of pain. Nagi puts down the shovel and walks away. There is nothing he can do. It had taken less than a day since the earthquake for him to learn that.

He spots a familiar brown head sitting by one of the street corners, slouched against the remains of a wooden wall. Nagi slumps down beside Tetsu, whose shadowed gaze mirrors his own. They sit like that for at least a few minutes as the sound of the city, the cries of pain for lost family members, the medics rushing a few stragglers to the medical stations, and the occasional crackle of flames as a fire starts, whether by design or carelessness (after seeing what the earth would do, many were hesitant to bury their loved ones) wash over them.

“Do you think we could have done more?” Tetsu catches his attention with that question.

“You’re asking if we could have stopped an earthquake?” Nagi asks in disbelief.

“No, not stopped.” His friend hesitates for a few moments before continuing. “We heard the street vendor, though. It’s like… a part of me knew this would happen. Do you think we could have warned people? Sent out an evacuation notice?”

Nagi’s temper boils to the surface for the first time since the ground had shaken. How dare Tetsu blame himself for this?! It had never been his responsibility! “It’s not your responsibility! You saw how people treated the street vendor – they’d have told us that we’re crazy!”

To his infuriation, Tetsu still doesn’t look convinced. Nagi opens his mouth, about to let his friend have a piece of his mind about how he didn’t do it, it wasn’t his fault, and can he please stop acting like a fucking martyr all the time? (Because it is a terrifying thought, that Tetsu might sacrifice himself for everyone else in a heartbeat.)

“So what if it was our fault?” a voice lazily drawls from behind them. They both turn and Nagi automatically scowls at seeing Mitsuru’s face. Doesn’t that guy have anything better to do? “You still have that letter and those gloves, right?” he addresses this question to Tetsu, who blinks and makes a sound of agreement. “Then we can go after that organization of bastards and make them pay for what they did.”

It’s a logical approach, a good idea, but Nagi still glares. Can’t that guy feel at least a little sadness? Can’t he wallow in his grief like the rest of them? Mitsuru notices the nasty look being sent his way and _somehow_ manages to beam back brightly, despite his torn uniform and overall dusty appearance. “Nagi, you’re looking a little tense. I don’t know if any of the girl houses are still open, but I’m betting they would relieve- “

Which is as far as he gets because that’s when Nagi throws himself at him with a red face. “Shut up, you moron!” he yells while attempting to punch Mitsuru in the face, which he dodges easily because he’s a bastard who happens to be much taller, and he _wiggles his fucking eyebrows._

Nagi takes a deep breath. Naoya had always said that he should try to control his temper more, right? So he takes a deep breath and tries to count to ten and it seems to be working, but then-

Mitsuru gasps. “My sweet little Nagi, have you already learned how to respect your elders? Oh, I’m so proud- “The rest is cut off by Nagi slamming into him like an angry little bullet train. He manages a solid kick to the shin before he feels Tetsu’s arms around him hauling him back and he still manages to level one of his more menacing looks at Mitsuru, who- is that bastard laughing?

Tetsu grips him tighter before he can attempt to inflict any more physical harm on his partner- former partner now, he supposes. The thought is so strange, so final, that is stops Nagi in his tracks.

Right, former partner. Because it’s all gone now. They won’t ever go back to the way they were before, when Nagi’s only concern was finishing a mission as soon as possible so he would have to spend the least amount of time in his insufferable partner’s presence.

A partner he didn’t have now, though. So why would Mitsuru still be hanging around, still taunting him like tha- oh. Taunting him, of course. Perhaps that’s what he takes so much pleasure in, letting Nagi know just how hopeless he situation is? Probably a part of getting him to “man up” or whatever. Was this really Mitsuru’s idea of looking after him like he’d promised Naoya? Didn’t that guy have any shred of respect for Nagi’s brother?

Nagi shrugs off Tetsu’s arms angrily and storms off. Maybe he can help another family recover their loved ones, put his back into the tough and demanding work and forget about the outside world for a second.

He needs to find a way to forget reality because everything is catching up to him now, not only the shock of his brother’s death, but also the knowledge that he had been murdered by someone Nagi had trusted, someone who he had seen every day, but done nothing to stop, the horrible clenching guilt of allowing himself to be captured, the memory of that smiling face force-feeding him that stupid plant and what he had done afterwards, the memories that he was trying his hardest to forget.

He closed his eyes against the sudden pressure. ‘ _Don’t cry, Nagi. Naoya wouldn’t want you to cry, would he? So don’t you dare cry.’_

He helps a little boy exhume the remains of his dog, then he helps a couple find their lifeless child, after which he…

He keeps working and doesn’t cry.

-

The effort against Yorakurazai keeps them busy for several months. Nagi doesn’t see much of anyone, barely has the time to meet with Tetsu because he’s being hounded by the police and asked to give statements and verify evidence, sign the statements not only he but others give, confirm the identity of potential members-

It’s all very exhausting and at least seventy percent of it is purely bureaucratic bullshit.

It’s also in those months that the nightmares start. Nagi never saw himself as the type of weak person who’d be plagued by night terrors, but the past year was already making him question all of his beliefs.

It starts one night when Nagi keeps tossing and turning, unable to make himself comfortable in the narrow bed he can barely afford (his family had cut him off in the aftermath of the earthquake when he had refused to go home with his tail between his legs), mentally cursing each and every flea that he just knows is happily prancing in his bedding. He stirs, swearing he can hear something in the darkness, but doesn’t concern himself with it. The next thing he knows there’s a hand clapped over his mouth and a horribly sweet and tantalizing taste on his tongue, tempting him, conflicting on whether to swallow compliantly or fight back. Just as he makes the decision to fight back it’s too late, his throat is moving against his will and that disgustingly opulent medicine is going down his throat.

That’s when Nagi bolts awake, sweating and tears in his eyes.

Ever since they start, he can’t escape them, no matter how often or where he sleeps. He isn’t quite pathetic enough to try to seek out charms or medicines, but he does listen to one of his (questionable) friends, who claims that visiting a brothel helps him sleep like a baby. However, after thirty minutes of an older girl rubbing herself all over him, all he feels is very uncomfortable, so he awkwardly excuses himself and bails out of there, vowing to never ever listen to that friend again.

Surprisingly, he starts talking with Miss Mochizuki. Their one thing in common is, of course, his brother, and he isn’t ashamed to cry while laughing about how much of a romantic dork Naoya could be (trying to make her breakfast, but instead somehow managing to set water on fire) the same way Miss Mochizuki can’t be blamed for her tears after he tells her about how Naoya once broke his foot while attempting to climb into his bedroom through the window because he’d stayed out late and thought their parents would be waiting, when in reality they had been away on a business trip. Nagi had heard a cry and ran outside only to find his brother dangling from one of the trees in their garden, his leg at an awkward angle.

Reminiscing is bittersweet. On one hand it helps him remember his brother and feel closer to him, but on the other it’s like digging a knife into his stomach. He thinks that he and Miss Mochizuki might have been friends, if the circumstances were different. However, due to the stabbing pain in his chest, he can’t bear to talk to her often. From the way her smile pulls at her eyes sometimes, he thinks she feels the same way.

The Saeki family gets their head out of their asses long enough to acknowledge that their son has been a part of an ongoing police investigation for a while now and join forces with the Fuwa family in order to help find and destroy the last remnants of Yorakurazai. The one time Nagi goes to visit them, the Fuwa family is coincidentally visiting and all Nagi has to do is see a flash of Mitsuru’s head before he’s ducking out of the house, hoping not to be spotted. He’s thankful that he hasn’t had to deal much with the bastard ever since the earthquake, he was certainly not dealing with him in his own family house, thank you very much.

Of course, as with the nightmares, one occurrence seems to start a pattern. Now when he’s in the market Nagi has to quickly hide behind a rickety turnip stand when he sees the Bastard (because he is too irritated to even think of his name), which certainly results in many odd looks and the kindly old woman who sells turnips asking him if he is feeling okay and, thinking, he’s sick, offering him a batch free of charge. (Despite his stomach growling, he refuses. She needs it more than him. It is most definitely not because he hates turnips.)

Then it happens again. Nagi isn’t quite sure why he avoids him so fervently, but it becomes a matter of principle.

In the clothes market, he is almost charged with theft after pulling a coat off a stand and bundling himself into it to stop Mitsuru from recognizing him. In the restaurant street where Miss Mochizuki works, he makes his escape just in time by diving into a conveniently opened drain, ruining his clothes and causing him to stink for a week. At the fruit market again, he almost knocks over a group of children when seeking the turnips’ protection once more. This time a pile of the vegetables is forced into his hands by the frowning woman and he is told in no uncertain terms to visit a doctor. (Nagi makes sure to give the turnips to a random kid the second he’s high-tailed it out of the Bastard’s immediate vicinity. He does this to make sure the child is healthy, of course, with no other ulterior motives.)

Then at the docks when he is asking a stern fisherman if he could perhaps help him transporting his haul for some money, he catches sight of the asshole heading _right his way._ So out of nowhere he cuts off his sentence and jumps into the sea, much to his no-longer-potential-employer’s bemusement.

At this point, Nagi is at the edge of his rope. The sleepless nights when he is unable to catch a wink combined with the stress of having to live the life of a working peasant would have been enough to do him in and leave him irritable, but considering the fact his least favorite person in the world, except perhaps Kyouji, or Akira he supposes, seems to be _everywhere,_ and keeps ruining his clothes by forcing him to jump into polluted water, Nagi’s about ready to blow his fuse. One of his roommates at the boarding house asks him what’s wrong and gets his head nearly screamed off with “Everyone fucking leave me alone and leave me in peace!”

He would visit Tetsu, if his friend weren’t even more busy than him. Fucking investigators and their slow-ass ways.

Inevitably, things come to a head. Despite his tiring lifestyle, Nagi makes sure to visit his brother’s grave, miraculously untouched by the earthquake, at least once a week. He sometimes seems flowers left at the grave and has taken to assuming they are from Miss Mochizuki, who has told him she visits the grave, too. (At different times of course; they don’t want to interrupt each other’s time with Naoya.) However, as he approaches the site this time, Nagi stops in pure shock as he sees a mop of brown hair crouched over his brother’s resting place.

His first thoughts are an incoherent mass of anger and _how dare he?!_ How dare he turn up here as well, in Nagi’s one peaceful place, his most precious place. _Mitsuru has crossed a fucking line._

A snarl builds up in his chest before he’s fully aware of it and an inhuman sound leaves him as he rushes at the bastard. He has a split second to register the shock on the other’s face before his fist collides with his cheek, hard.

“How dare you?” he seethes. “How DARE YOU?!” This time, it’s a scream. “You have NO RIGHT, you irritating sack of shit! You have no right to still be here, you have no right to turn up everywhere I am, you have NO RIGHT to interfere with me or Naoya!” There are tears in his eyes, he vaguely realizes and barely manages to make himself care when they fall. “What did you ever do for him, huh?!” And suddenly the strength leaves him. “Why would you be here when all you do is complicate things?” The words are weak and punctuated with something that Nagi realizes with horror is a sob. “Why… would you be here…?” He isn’t even looking at Mitsuru anymore. “Why would… you, of all people…?”

And then he hears a voice whisper “I’m sorry,” with such _honest sincerity and regret._

Nagi breaks down.

After all these months, he finally processes what happened. His anger is gone and all the sorrow it ever covered up is coming out. He falls to his knees and the sobs wrack him as he cries, loudly and messily, animal-like sounds coming from him as he wails out his grief for the brother he adored and was taken from him when Naoya had no right to disappear and leave him all alone. There is snot dripping from his nose and running into his mouth and he just doesn’t care-

Strong arms wrap around him, pulling him in close.

_Mitsuru,_ Nagi realizes. And then he lets go. Somehow, his cries become even louder, even more heart-broken, as he weeps for not only his brother, but the strain he went through, the worry he felt for Tetsu and all his friends and all the guilt of not noticing before, like Tetsu said, not listening to the street vendor-

He doesn’t know how long he cries there in Mitsuru’s embrace. Finally, the sobs taper off and he’s just left feeling numb.

“I’m sorry,” Mitsuru whispers again into his hair.

Nagi somehow manages to lift his head from the warm shoulder and look into his former partner’s too-brown eyes. “Why?” he asks quietly. “Why did he have to die?” Logically, he knows, but emotionally, he just can’t process it.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuru responds, still holding his eyes, and oh- is that wetness in Mitsuru’s eyes, too? “I wish I knew, I-“there’s a pause and something like a sob escapes him. “I keep wondering every day, if maybe I had noticed, had stayed in our room that night-“Another sob wracks him. “A-and then if I had watched you two better, noticed that you and Tetsu went after Yamato sooner, I could’ve protected you- “

And then it’s Mitsuru’s turn to break down. He cries much the same way Nagi did, except he occasionally whispers, “I’m sorry” and “It’s my fault” into Nagi’s hair.

Nagi… doesn’t know what to think or feel about this. He had been prepared to forever rule off Mitsuru as a cocky bastard that he would never want to associate with, but… perhaps not. Anyway, one thing was for certain.

“Mitsuru,” he says when the other finally calms down. The shock of Nagi calling Mitsuru by his first name startles the older, him pulling away to look down at Nagi- and oh, there’s the familiar flare of irritation at the height difference. “It’s not your fault,” Nagi says decisively.

This results in about another ten minutes of crying before Mitsuru is back to normal again. Or well, as normal as that guy can ever get.

Finally, when Mitsuru is sitting back on his heels and wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve, Nagi decides to ask the question that’s nagging at him. “You… come here?”

Mitsuru meets his eyes and nods, eyes wandering to the headstone. “Yeah,” he says quietly, then smiles sheepishly. “I usually don’t cry, though.”

Nagi snorts. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t make me take you for a crybaby.” Surprisingly, Mitsuru laughs at this.

“Thank you, Nagi,” he says, way too seriously.

“What for?”

“For being here and for… being yourself.”

Alright, Nagi is officially uncomfortable. He is prepared to maybe, _maybe,_ change his opinion on Mitsuru, but not get into this mushy heart-to-heart stuff. “Stop that,” he quickly says. “Don’t make me punch your face in.”

At this, Mitsuru grins. “How rude! But I’m surprised – you could hit me? And even if you did, considering by that punch you threw before, I doubt you could hurt a fly!” Ah, there’s that familiar flare of hatred. Nagi was getting worried that maybe the old turnip lady had been correct and that he really was coming down with something. Anyways. Mitsuru is a lying liar because there’s still a bruise on his face from Nagi’s punch.

Nagi, preparing a retort, notices that they are still on a cemetery and instead of starting a fight like he had been about to, he instead huffs and sends his best scowl Mitsuru’s way, which just makes the bastard’s smile wider.

Nagi doesn’t keep avoiding Mitsuru after that. Turns out that the reason they’d been seeing each other so often was because Mitsuru had just moved into this part of town by pure coincidence. The first time they properly speak at the fruit market, Mitsuru ends up wondering aloud why he and Nagi had never encountered each other until now. Nagi quickly replies that he doesn’t know and proceeds to drag Mitsuru far, far away from the old turnip lady. (It is with a mixture of horror and resignation that he realizes he knows her name is Akane Tsukimoto and is aware of the life stories of her seven children and eighteen grandchildren. When had he started spending so much time at her stand?)

All in all, things start looking up. Nagi is still stressed from both the on-going investigation (which is finally starting to show some results) and his endless struggle to keep himself alive in a capitalistic society, but that stress goes away surprisingly quickly after some banter with Mitsuru and being allowed to take some anger out by attempting to punch the other and Mitsuru just laughing while showing off his superior dodging skills.

They even start meeting unprompted, Mitsuru inviting Nagi to check out the cool restaurant he found, at which Nagi scoffs after tasting the food there and declaring that tomorrow he can show Mitsuru a much better restaurant with even better food. It is like this they end up competing who can find the best place for them to eat. Additionally, after Mitsuru finds out about Nagi’s not very ideal financial situation, he starts insisting to pay for all their meals, which Nagi is both thankful for and extremely irritated about. Seriously, why does that bastard have to keep meddling?

Of course, since life is a bitch, the peaceful nature of his life can’t last like that forever. It is at a certain point, after his roommate asks him “C’mon, Nagi, don’t tell me you’re a weirdo; what kind of girls do you like?” Nagi ignores him, but the comment keeps gnawing at him. When at first he had never liked girls, he had been told it would go away with time as he grew older. However, he is an adult now and even when he musters up the courage and visits the brothel a second time, all he feels is discomfort and embarrassment.

Is there something wrong with him?

No, there can’t be. Maybe it was just everyone else that was weird? Seriously; what could possibly be appealing about a woman of all people rubbing herself on you? Why would that be anything but disgusting?

As he lies in bed, Nagi tries to imagine it.

He lays down, closes his eyes, and imagines that there are lips against his, gentle. The other guys always said that a girl shouldn’t kiss too hard and that her lips should be really soft, right? In the dark, the phantom pressure of a light kiss on his lips does nothing to him. If anything, maybe if there was more force and the lips were thinner and chapped, rough?

Yeah… yeah! Finally, he thinks it could be pleasant. He lets his imaginary partner kiss him like that for a while before he thinks that he might be able to see the appeal in touching more of this person. He thinks of trailing his fingers down their chest and finding a soft breast there… No, he doesn’t want that. The thought of him touching a breast is discomforting in much the same way the brothel was. What if his partner’s chest was… smooth and firm?

Out of nowhere, his mind makes his lips be devoured by a strong whirlwind of sensation, chapped lips biting and sucking at him while a muscular chest presses against him and his fingers trail up into soft but short hair, tangling in it perfectly.

He gasps and hears a chuckle, and so he opens his eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of warm brown eyes staring into his, underlined by a cocky smirk that could only belong to one person. “Ne, you like that, Nagi?” The _‘Nagi’_ rolls out of his mouth in that infuriating tone that he always uses to tease him-

_Oh fuck no._

Nagi bolts awake (when had he fallen asleep?) and throws off his covers with sheer horror pumping through his veins. Sure enough, his boxers are tented and there is _quite_ a prominent wet patch soaking through them.

Nagi stares at his crotch with a feeling of deep, deep betrayal.

Because _no,_ how could this be right? He was supposed to become a well-respected and good man, right? How could he do that if he was- was a- was a sodomite?! A faggot?! Because Nagi has no illusions, it probably should have been obvious to him sooner, a guy his age should have long since been interested in girls, but instead he’d always only had passing thoughts about how nice Tetsu and Yamato and some other officers looked sometimes- Christ, it should have been obvious- how would he be able to make Naoya proud like this-

Oh, oops. Turns out that thinking of your dead brother during a sexuality crisis is not the best idea. Nagi really wants to throw up now.

He manages to resist the urge, but just barely. Quietly hyperventilating as not to wake the rest of the guys in the tiny room, he thinks of his options.

Should he tell someone? His first instinct when dealing with a crisis of any kind is to ask Tetsu for help, but his friend is still very busy. In addition to that, now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know how his friend might take this. Nagi really doesn’t want to lose Tetsu.

Alright, so who else was there? One of his roommates? No. Tetsu? He’d just gone over that, goddammit brain. Yamato? Pfff, no. Mitsuru? _Hell no._ Miss Mochizuki? Yeah, right, no. So what about-

Hold up.

Could he tell Miss Mochizuki? His first instinct was to shrug her off, only considering her superficially, but now that he examines the idea, it’s starting to look reasonable. First of all, where had she once worked? A brothel. All different types of people flocked to that place, and he would not be surprised if she was more accepting of… deviants. Second of all, she had once admitted to having a soft spot for him because he looked like his brother. So even if she hated him afterwards, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t tell anybody. And if she wouldn’t then want to associate with him, well, he still had Mitsuru to reminisce about Naoya with.

And speaking of Mitsuru, Nagi is a fucking idiot for not realizing before. Really, why had he never noticed how often he got flushed when talking to that idiot, regardless of whether he was angry or not? And yeah, whenever Mitsuru purposely towered over him, he was irritated, but it was also kind of hot-

Nagi slams his head against the wall behind him, causing one of his sleeping roommates to roll over and murmur something.

Alright, getting his thoughts back on track, should he tell Miss Mochizuki? Because regardless of how good the reasons for telling her might be, he would still have to actually open his mouth and say “I like boys. No, not as friends. I mean, as a faggot. Want to keep being friends?”

Nagi buries his head into his thin and scratchy pillow and groans, long and heartfelt. Why couldn’t he just be a normal guy? Maybe he can move away to the mountains and become a hermit forever?

Actually, that plan doesn’t sound so bad…

No! You have to stay here and make your brother proud! You’re going to stay here and… and you’re gonna tell Miss Mochizuki.

That’s what Nagi keeps repeating to himself mentally as he falls asleep.

The moment of truth comes exactly a day, seven hours, and thirty-four minutes later. No, Nagi hasn’t been counting, he just… has a very good grasp of time. Yes, he is going with that excuse.

Sitting in front of Miss Mochizuki in the restaurant is more than nerve-wracking. Hell, he had barely come to terms with the realization himself a day or two ago, why did he ever think it would be a good idea to tell another person? His breathing speeds up. And what was he thinking?! No amount of fondness would keep someone from immediately warning everyone that a fa- a faggot was among them, that they should stay away, why shouldn’t he just jump in the ocean and drown-

“Nagi?” comes a soft voice, and that coupled with a gentle hand on his shoulder shakes him out of his haze and he belatedly realizes that he’s been hyperventilating.

His mouth is suddenly dry as he meets Miss Mochizuki’s eyes, large with concern. “I’m sorry,” he manages to croak out. Miss Mochizuki’s face wrinkles with worry.

“Nagi, what is it? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Nagi nervously licks his lips and surveys the room around them. They’re tucked away at a corner table and the small pub is practically empty, the few people present either drunk out of their mind or really not caring about anything but the worries they’re attempting to drown in a mug of beer.

“I-I’m sorry,” Nagi repeats and makes himself meet Miss Mochizuke’s eyes. Suddenly, the words come out in a rush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to turn to, I’m so afraid they’re all gonna hate me, you see, I’m a disgrace and I have no one else and no one is going to want me, definitely not Mitsuru anymore because I’m disgusting and I’m sorry that you have to associate with someone like me- “

The hand that is still on his shoulder tightens, bringing him back to reality. Miss Mochizuke’s eyes are kind as they meet his and her expression is open, genuine. “I promise I won’t hate you.”

Those words, more than anything, give Nagi enough courage to say, “I’m a faggot.”

It hangs there between them and suddenly everything is silent. Miss Mochizuki’s face stays the same, the emotions flitting behind her eyes unreadable. Nagi is brave enough to meet her gaze for all of five seconds before he lowers his eyes and clenches the fists in his lap, waiting for hateful words and to be thrown out.

“Nagi,” comes her gentle voice. “Is that what you’ve been so worked up about?”

Nagi’s head jerks up. “What-?” He is unsure how to respond to the fact that now that he sees Miss Mochizuke’s face, she is smiling.

“S-Something so- “and then she’s laughing, real and tinkling, in a way that Nagi’s never heard before. For those few seconds, all the sorrow she always carries leaves her face as it twists in genuine amusement, the laughter flowing freely. It takes about ten seconds for her to calm down, and then she’s still giggling. “You’re so silly,” she tells him.

Nagi feels his favorite emotion bubbling up. “What?!” he exclaims. “How is that silly?! I just told you I’m- I’m- what I am, and you’re saying it’s silly?!” He hastily wipes at his eyes as he feels something that resembles tears pricking at them. No, he’s not doing that again.

Miss Mochizuki looks a little more serious now, but there is still a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m sorry, I know that for you it’s perhaps not silly. But trust me, I’ve honestly seen people that were into stranger things. For you nobles it’s probably a big thing, right?”

Nagi feels his eye gain a tick. “Yeah, kind of.”

Miss Mochizuki smiles fully at him now, bright and reassuring. “Well, it’s honestly not that important in the streets, especially not in the underground. I mean, some people care, but as long as you don’t shout it from the rooftops or come onto anyone, it’s not really seen as an issue.”

Nagi sits there in silence for a moment, processing that. It was…fine? He could… live this way?

“Oh, also,” Miss Mochizuke adds, and this time a frown appears on her face. “Don’t call yourself a faggot. It’s an insulting word, and you don’t deserve to be called that.”

Nagi blinks at her, confused. “But… what else should I call myself? There isn’t really another word for it. Sodomite?”

Miss Mochizuke is shaking her head. “Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ to emphasize. “A lot of people that like the same gender call themselves ‘gay’. It’s actually a pretty nice term.”

He thinks about it for a moment. Gay… Happy… He could call himself happy? He feels a smile stretch his face. “I like that,” he tells Miss Mochizuki, and it feels like a realization he’s been waiting for his entire life.

In hindsight, he should never have even remotely associated with Miss Mochizuki because she’s an evil, evil witch, a hideous enchantress, a monster in the form of a woman, and many, many other similarly sinister things. Naoya had probably fallen in love with her because she had a voodoo doll of him or something. On top of this, she has the audacity to beam at Nagi unrepentantly, even as waves of anger practically roll off him.

Maybe he should slow down and explain.

The days followings the conversation with Miss Mochizuki (“call me Chiyo, please”) were... enlightening, to say the least. Yes, every once in a while, Nagi would get that sharp feeling in his chest, declaring that he’s wrong and that he’s an abomination, but it was slowly tamping down. Progress.

What wasn’t progress was his relationship to Mitsuru.

Hell, their relationship had been complicated beforehand. They weren’t friends, not in the traditional sense, nor were they rivals or partners. So Nagi had tentatively labelled it as masochistic friendship on both their parts and left it at that. Now, however, things were more complicated. It was one thing to go to a restaurant with your brother’s former partner and reminisce, it was another to sit at a restaurant with the man who had literally made him realize he was gay. (That word was still taking some getting used to.) He just couldn’t help his… thoughts when they were at a table alone, surrounded by couples…

It wouldn’t be as much of an issue if Nagi’s attraction to the man was purely physical. But nope, sometime during the second day after the conversation with Miss Mochizuki, or rather, Chiyo, he finds himself comparing the flutter of his heart when Mitsuru is nearby to the flutter of a butterfly’s wings and he suddenly understands with perfect clarity that he’s completely and utterly fucked. And not even in the good sense-

And he’s stopping right there.

Nagi ended up solving the problem rather simply; he went back to his tactic of avoidance.

While hiding with Miss Tsukimoto (“call me Akane, dear”) at her stand, he actually ended up listening to her for two hours as she explained the politics of the Tsukimoto clan. It was all quite fascinating, actually.

(Turns out that her twin daughters Sakurako and Umeko had had children with the same man and were now living in a polyamorous relationship of three together. However, that same man had also had a child before with a different woman, who had apparently recently turned up dead under “mysterious circumstances”. In addition to this, one of Umeko’s sons had run away to his uncle Kazuma and was currently hiding there. It may also have been a kidnapping. The telling of the story made this very unclear. Akane made sure to describe their most recent family dinner, in which at least three poisoned pies had made an appearance and pointed comments along the lines of “family sticking together” had been made, in disturbingly fond detail. Nagi had the thought that Yorakurazai had truly missed a recruiting opportunity here before shuddering at the idea in terror.)

The avoidance tactic had worked surprisingly well, to the point that Nagi became very suspicious. He had not at any point had to jump into any sewers and all the time he spent with Akane was, however grudgingly he may admit it, willing done by him.

Of course, it had ended up being a trap. Which is the reason he’s currently glaring holes at an overly cheerful Chiyo.

Who else could he have turned to when he was stuck just admiring his male friend from afar? Why, the only person he had ever come out to.

Chiyo, that witch, had asked him whether he was feeling well and offered for him to go have a drink at a pub for her and put it on her tab – she apparently knew the owner and wouldn’t owe a thing.

As is to be expected of a teenage boy, no matter how adult, he was plastered by the end of the night.

In between the rowdy and loud voices of other patrons, the opulent stench of the establishment he was in and the pleasantly warm feeling in his stomach, Nagi had felt someone sitting down next to where he was slumped on the bar, his head in his hands. He ignored them.

Ignoring became more difficult when someone poked him in the shoulder. Hard. He lifted up his head and squinted at someone who looked vaguely familiar. He couldn’t really tell though, everything was sort of spinning. “Who’re y’u?” he slurred with as much dignity as he could muster.

Whoever it was made some sort of expression (Nagi was still too drunk to tell) and an odd sighing noise. “Alright, it’s time to go,” they said. That voice also sounded familiar. Kind of deep. Hmm…

Nagi had already been hauled halfway to the door when brilliance struck him. “Y’re a m’n!” he exclaimed in triumph.

“My genius partner strikes again,” came the muttered response that Nagi could barely make out. He scowled. Why was it so loud?

In the next few moments, his wish for everything to just quiet down was granted as he was dragged into the cool night air. He flinched a little at the chilliness. “’s cold!” he complained. A snort was his only reply.

Nagi took another moment to study the figure dragging him down the street. Brown hair, brown eyes… where had he seen it before?

It suddenly struck him.

Mitsuru!

Boy, was he glad his former partner currently wasn’t here and instead he was being dragged by some strange lookalike of his.

“Y’kno’,” Nagi started to impart his just-learned wisdom. “Y’lo’k lik’ som’on’ I kno’,” he said with grave seriousness.

An intrigued noise. “Oh? Really?”

“Ye’h,” Nagi confirmed enthusiastically with a shake of his head. “He’sa, he’sa jerk. Can’t stand h’m.” Which was honestly very true. Nagi was just considering the wisdom of asking this helpful stranger for advice with his predicament of also liking his stupid face when this time the stranger started to say something, a smile on their face.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Nagi immediately perked up. The man stopped and lowered his voice, as appropriate when imparting a secret. “I’m Mitsuru.” A flash of amusement and mischief was immediately visible to Nagi and he gaped. Why hadn’t he realized this sooner? Damn Mitsuru’s disguising abilities!

Since apparently his mouth lacked a filter, the first thing he said to this amazing revelation was “P’bably shuld’n’t ask y’u fo’ lo’- love adv’ce then.”

Even in his drunken state, Nagi’s instincts immediately recognized Mitsuru’s face lighting up in glee. “Oh? Would you care to tell me?”

Thankfully, Nagi still had some sense left. He scowled as imperiously as he could in his state. “N’oooo,” he said stubbornly.

Mitsuru seemed to sigh in disappointment before slinging Nagi’s arm over his shoulder again and continuing on their path. Something suddenly occurred to Nagi. “H’eeey,” Mitsuru slowed down and made a questioning noise, “how’d y’u kno’ I wa’ ther’?”

His current transportation vehicle chuckled. “Miss Mochizuki told me.” The small, sober corner of Nagi’s brain immediately started cursing out Chiyo for this. She knew about his trouble with Mitsuru! And in hindsight, that was probably why she had done this.

An unfortunate side effect of his sober part being occupied was that the drunk part was entirely in control and wasn’t planning on letting go of the wheel anytime soon. “M’suru?”

A long-suffering sigh. “Yes?”

“’f you,” Nagi started his very wise question, “’f you reeeeeeally l’iked som’one, l’ik a looooot,” he explained eloquently, “l’ik y’u wa’ted ‘o kiss ‘em wh’n’ver y’u saw ‘em, wha’ woul’ y’u ‘o?”

Mitsuru had an unreadable expression on his face. No matter how hard Nagi squinted, it didn’t become any more readable. It was very annoying.

Just as Nagi thought he wouldn’t answer, he did. “I’d probably just walk up to them and kiss them.”

With this, Nagi stopped letting himself be dragged on the ground, forcing Mitsuru to stop with him. “M’kay,” he decided.

Now, his following thought process was this, in his brilliant drunken state while his sober self was still cursing out his friend, blissfully unaware of the current situation. Nagi was super stuck right now. It was hard enough to admit to himself that he vaguely liked Mitsuru in any kind of way, let alone a romantic one. The impossibility of the situation and any possible developments was also a sting to his pride, and if there was one thing Nagi would never put a price tag on, it was his ego. So, he was stuck. What better thing to do when stuck in a corner than to just jump in headfirst? Besides, Mitsuru had essentially just given him the okay. Technically. The logic was there.

He tugged Mitsuru down by the collar, even as his former’s partners lips started to move to ask a question, Nagi did what his drunk mind was telling him to do and clumsily attempted to seal his lips to Mitsuru’s. Unfortunately, due to his not-quite-sober status, it ended up being more of Nagi slobbering all over Mitsuru’s mouth.

He was vaguely aware of the sober part of his mind, which had decided to take a break, yelling at him. His inner voice had a pair of lungs on it, that was for sure.

Pulling back and taking in Mitsuru’s completely flabbergasted expression, he giggled both at it and at his own ridiculous thoughts.

He promptly proceeded to pass out.

Which brings him to the current situation. Nagi woke up completely alone in his boarding house without so much as a sign of Mitsuru but a very intact memory. As much as he would like to, at this moment in time, write off that entire occurrence as a fever dream, the pounding pain in his head seemed to indicate a hangover that, unfortunately, dispelled all doubts.

Nagi is still panicking. “No, Chiyo, you don’t understand,” he whimpers pathetically, still aware of his raging hangover. “He picked me up at the bar and walked me home- “

“Relax, it’s not like he stole your virginity, right?” Chiyo interrupts with an eye roll, completely ignoring Nagi’s spluttering. Where has that meek and polite woman gone? She is a witch, he is completely sure. Then again, it makes sense. Ever since his brother brought home a girl at fifteen years old that was a compulsive pyromaniac, Nagi knew that his Naoya had a thing for the crazy ones. (And yes, Naoya had been aware of his girlfriend’s arsonist tendencies before she burned their stables.)

“No,” Nagi tries once again to impress the importance of this. “I gave him my first kiss because I was drunk and asked him for love advice.”

There is a moment of silence as both of them process that that is a sentence that just came out of Nagi’s mouth.

Nagi slaps a hand over his face, embarrassed beyond all measure. He is certain that he currently resembles an overly ripe tomato in terms of complexion.

Chiyo just lets out a quiet, “oh,” and looks at him with a strange look in her eyes. Nagi peeks through a gap between his fingers and is extremely thankfully when he doesn’t see pity. (He knew he was her friend for a reason, Chiyo probably hates being pitied as much as he does, now that he thinks about it, what with her past and all.) She just looks surprised and… thoughtful. This does not bode well for his future.

Steeling himself, Nagi decides he may just get this over with. At this point, he has resigned himself to Chiyo knowing all the most intimate details of his life, even more than Tetsu, and when had that happened? “I found out that I like men only a week or two ago and I still have issues with accepting it, but I think I can live with it, but I apparently like Mitsuru of all people, which I was just getting used to when I kissed him out of nowhere while drunk in a way that I’m pretty sure is impossible to interpret as friendly and now he knows that I’m gay and he’s from a noble family too so not only is he gonna hate me, which sucks because he is really, really attractive and sometimes when we’re fighting I just want him to pin me down, um, but he’s gonna tell Tetsu and Yamato and probably everyone else and my parents and everyone is gonna hate me forever.”

The tirade leaves him breathless. Nagi thinks that he should feel some sort of relief, like he just got everything off his chest. Instead, he just sort of wants to sink into the floor.

Chiyo makes a noise of surprise across from him and Nagi forces him to meet her gaze. Thankfully, she just looks kind and understanding and looks like she’s genuinely thinking of useful advice to give him. “Well, one thing I can assure you of,” she starts, “is that Mitsuru likes both women and men.”

Nagi, who had just been sipping his tea, chokes and has a minor coughing fit. Once he calms down, he makes an unintelligible noise along the lines of ‘What?!’

“Yeah,” Chiyo continues, amusement very clear in her face now. “He’s usually pretty discreet about it, but I’ve seen him approach male prostitutes. He also apparently had some sort of fling with Naoya to help them both discover their sexuality.” At this, her face makes a very interesting expression that is somewhere between bemusement, amusement, and incredulity at the facts slipping out of her mouth. “Actually, if that fling hadn’t made Naoya realize he was undeniably straight, I would have been concerned about having Mitsuru as my competition.”

Nagi feels a little green. He thinks he might puke. Probably sensing this, Chiyo pours him another cup of tea, which he gladly gulps down.

Nagi stares down at his teacup as he voices the obvious thought that comes to the forefront of his mind. “But Chiyo,” he says, “if Mitsuru was after Naoya, doesn’t that mean that I’ll always only be Naoya’s little brother to him?” He bites his lip, something he’ll be appalled at later. “Wouldn’t I just… be my brother’s replacement?” His voice is too small for his liking, so Nagi pours himself another cup of tea, meeting Chiyo’s very serious eyes in the process.

She gives him a very stern look. “I’d recommend asking him that before you two have sex.” She says it in such a grave way, like she knows it’s a fact, that Nagi isn’t even embarrassed by it, just accepts the advice. “And if he does see you that way, he’s not worth it.”

Nagi opens his mouth, automatically thinking that he should have something else to point out. Surprisingly, he comes up blank. He shuts his mouth, which he had opened, and just looks at Chiyo, kind and determined and helping. He studies the soft lines of her face in something like disbelief as he suddenly realizes this is his life now. When had they become so close? When did he start being able to just look at her without seeing his brother’s shadow hang over her? When had she become able to meet his eyes, too much like Naoya’s, without flinching?

When had his acquaintance Miss Mochizuki become his friend Chiyo?

Ridding himself of his overly introspective thoughts, Nagi lets out an enormous sigh and drops his head on the table. “When did this become my life?” he asks the wooden tabletop.

Across from him, Chiyo laughs.

-

Akane is, without a doubt, terrifying. Nagi sometimes thinks that it would be better for him if he still knew her as the “old turnip lady”, but then again, this also makes life interesting. The old turnip lady only sold boring (and gross) vegetables. Akane, on the other hand, tells many, many stories that are equal parts interesting and disturbing.

Like now, for example.

“So, what happened next?” Nagi asks with wide eyes and curiosity in his voice.

“Well, so my grandson, Sora, was understandably a bit frightened of the thieves that were ransacking his house while he was hiding in the closet, so he didn’t dare make a peep. Luckily, he managed to get a glimpse of their faces before they left, without discovering him of course, no grandchild of mine would let themselves be discovered. When his mother, my daughter, Akira, came home, he made sure to describe their faces, he has such a good memory, such a nice boy he is. Quite coincidentally, all the thieves became very, very sick the next day and were so shaken by this sudden illness that they immediately returned all stolen goods.” Akane shows a wide smile at this point. “All the thieves, except one.”

Nagi gapes and goes to ask the obvious question that she’s waiting for, except-

“Nagi?”

On reflex, Nagi holds up his hand and lets out a loud “shhh” sound at whoever is behind him before asking. “What happened to the one thief?”

Akane’s smile resembles a shark’s, he notices. “Ah well, seeing the mysterious illness that had struck his companions, the sole healthy thief, their leader quite incidentally, decided to skip town for fear of catching this sickness.” She shakes her head in something that, if you squint, vaguely resembles sympathy. “On his way to the next town however, the poor man was ambushed by a group of bandits that robbed him of everything he owned and left him laying in a ditch. Unfortunately, he bled out before some passing travelers found him. My three sons all happened to catch the flu that day, so they stayed at home and heard all about it.”

Nagi has the passing thought that his eyes probably have stars in them. Who knew that someone who sells turnips could be so cool?

He hears the sound of slow clapping from behind him. Squinting suspiciously, he turns around and sees his probably least favorite person at the moment, tousled brown hair and chocolate eyes and all.

Oh shit.

Nagi twists his face into something he hopes looks like a smile. “Oh, Mitsuru!” He internally winces at his voice being an octave higher than usual. “What a coincidence, seeing you here!”

There is a small eternity of awkward silence in which you could hear a pin drop.

“Ah, Nagi,” Mitsuru starts, an unreadable look in his eyes. “I just… wanted to talk.”

Hesitation is very unlike Mitsuru. That confirms that his former partner is here exactly for the reason Nagi thinks he is. In which case, he is fucked.

“Talk?” he practically chirps, and why is he so bad at acting normal? “What about?”

Mitsuru actually shuffles his feet, which Nagi is positive he has never seen him do, not even that one time they both accidentally had a hand in a knocking over a couple cans of paint and then Mitsuru had to explain to General Kongou why the bathroom was purple. This is officially the worst moment of his life. Other than, you know, the whole kissing incident. And his sexuality crisis. And then telling Chiyo about his sexuality crisis-

Alright, so maybe this is not the most awkward moment of his life.

“I just wanted to know if you, uh, remember last night? When you were drunk?”

Okay, think this through. Chiyo had clearly given him advice as to how to have a clear and simple discussion about the entire situation. He doesn’t want to disappoint her. Besides, Nagi is an adult and he can handle this

“Nope!” Nagi makes his eyes go as wide as possible in an attempt to look cute and innocent. Judging by the faintly disturbed expression Mitsuru makes, he probably hasn’t succeeded.

He is not a coward, this is merely a strategic retreat in order to regroup.

“Ah, okay,” and something a little like disappointment flits over Mitsuru’s face, but nope, Nagi is not reading into his facial expressions because he’ll just end up projecting, much as he is doing now. Mitsuru turns as if to leave.

“Oh!” comes Akane’s voice, which is way too thrilled, and yes, Nagi absolutely forgot that she was here and really, really wants to kick himself. “Is this your boyfriend?”

Mitsuru, who had turned back to face them, actually goes a little pink at this, which is definitely a first. In contrast, Nagi feels all the blood to rush to his face as he splutters. “W-What?!” he barely manages to keep himself from shouting. “T-that’s absolutely ridiculous! I don’t even- “

“Don’t even try to tell me you don’t like boys,” Akane scolds him sternly. “I have seen you checking out the backsides of enough of my customers to tell.”

Nagi feels all the blood that had gathered in his head quickly drain. Fuck. No one else was supposed to know yet! He buries his head in his hands, trying not to hyperventilate, not able to meet anyone’s eyes or make a rebuttal.

He thinks he sees Akane’s posture soften out of the corner of his eye. “It’s alright,” she tells him kindly, “my youngest boy, Masao, is also gay and currently in a committed relationship with a very nice young man.” There is silence for a few moments as no one deigns to add anything.

“Nagi?” Mitsuru asks. Nagi still isn’t looking at him and can’t tell what he might be thinking from his tone of voice. In reply, he just makes an incoherent noise. “Is it true?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The moment of truth.

“Yes,” Nagi manages, voice quiet and shaky. There isn’t a response and he still isn’t lifting his head from his hands. Silence. He just decides to bite the bullet and face this head-on. “I, um, I also remember last night.” He feels his face heat up. “Can we, uh, can we talk in private?” As he makes his request, he gathers his courage and looks at his former partner’s face, which is unreadable. That’s honestly kind of scary, given that Nagi has known him for years and thought he knew all of Mitsuru’s facial expressions. Apparently not.

Finally, he receives a long, slow nod of the nod from the man. He seems to hesitate before offering. “We can talk at my apartment.”

It is with this that they start a slow, tense walk to Mitsuru’s place. Nagi makes the mistake of looking back and sees Akane giving him a positively filthy gesture that causes yet more blood to rush to his face. Even though Nagi is naturally prone to blushing, this is just ridiculous and no excuse for how much he’s managed to have this reaction today.

As he and his former partner approach a new-looking building, still not saying a word, Nagi has the passing thought that he has never been in Mitsuru’s apartment before and that just makes this much scarier and more intimate than he wants it to be.

As they enter the pad, the door shuts behind them. It feels like finality.

There is at least a minute of silence as both men look at each other, one visibly fidgeting and the other unreadable, unbearably still and face impossibly neutral.

Nagi can’t stand it. “So, uh,” he begins awkwardly, “you have some questions?”

To this, Mitsuru sighs. “Will you answer honestly?”

The anger that flares up is the first comforting emotion that Nagi has felt in the last half an hour. “Of course, I will! That before, that was just, that was just- the situation, y’know.” Unfortunately, his ire is quickly replaced by the now-familiar embarrassment. Why can’t he ever get a break.

“Yeah,” Mitsuru pauses for a second, as if unsure how to continue. “I was… wondering about that.” Nagi firmly shuts his mouth, because if the bastard can’t get a clue, he is not explaining it for him. As if sensing this, he continues, “the logical conclusion to draw from that would be that… you like me.” Nagi is thankful at that moment that his face can’t get any redder than it is. “But… with you… I’m not quite sure if that is the case. So, can you confirm it for me?”

Nagi takes a few deep breaths, not meeting the other’s eyes as the question hangs between them, leaving them balancing on a precarious edge. A few more inhales and exhales and finally Nagi meets Mitsuru’s eyes head-on, his stubborn determination finally clawing to the forefront.

Very slowly, Nagi nods, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

He sees the way Mitsuru sharply sucks in a breath at this, but there is no other reply. Nagi belatedly realizes it’s his turn to talk, and so he forces himself to, still not looking away from the other’s chocolate irises. “Yes,” he starts. Affirmation is always good, right? “I… realized, not too long ago, that I… that I’m gay.” There is no reaction from Mitsuru other than a blink, which he chooses to interpret as a good sign. “And… I have been struggling since then with my, my feelings for you.” He feels a little bit of scarlet creeping up his throat but stays strong. “Yesterday when… when I was drunk I… inadvertently revealed those feelings,” god, this sounds so formal, his parents would be so proud, he thinks sarcastically, “I… apologize… for any discomfort I may have caused on your part and,” this next part almost turns his tongue to lead, “if you do not wish to associate with me anymore, I will understand.”

It is deathly still.

Nagi shifts his weight from one foot to the other, finally dropping his gaze from the other’s and staring at his shoes intently. Is this what criminals feel like in court, he wonders a little hysterically as he waits for judgement to descend upon him. Irrationally, he starts to feel a little bad for all the criminals he ever helped apprehend while working for TOKKOH.

“Nagi,” this one word causes the named boy (man! He’s an adult now!) to raise his head and make eye contact again. A shiver runs down his spine at the look Mitsuru is currently levelling him with, though for the life of him he can’t pinpoint why. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

Nagi’s mind goes blank.

It takes him at least a few seconds to splutter and regain his bearings, and when he does, his brain kicks into overdrive. He wants nothing more than to say yes, in fact he’s quite sure more than a few of his wet dreams have started like this and he almost opens his mouth to agree when his logical half shuts him up, reminding him of his conversation with Chiyo. And as much as he hates to, Nagi has to ask before he agrees to anything because if he doesn’t, he’s going to loathe himself and Chiyo will make very disappointed eyes at him.

“That depends,” he forces himself to say, “on how you see me. Am I Nagi to you or Naoya’s little brother?” He sees confusion settle on Mitsuru’s face and knows the bastard is about to ask him to clarify, so he bulldozes onward. “Chiyo said that you had a fling with Naoya. And personally, I know you were very good friends with him.” His voice becomes harsh at the last part. “So, do you see me as legitimate partner, or as,” his voice cracks a little and Nagi hates it, “Naoya’s replacement?”

Mitsuru is silent for what feels like an eternity before closing his eyes and sighing. “Naoya was,” his voice is rough with sudden grief, “my best friend. I loved him, I will never deny that. But.” He seems to think about how to continue. “At the end of the day, it was never romantic between us and I liked it that way. We worked better as friends. Yes, we tried once,” Mitsuru shrugs very awkwardly here and for a split second Nagi feels a strange comradery, “but it didn’t work out. We could pull off friends with benefits, but not actually, uh, romantic partners.” He coughs a bit here. “It’s… different with you.”

Nagi feels his shoulders slump in relief and lets out an audible sigh. Again, the ball seems to be in his court, so he gathers his courage and says what he wants to say. “So, um,” he manages, thankfully, without stuttering too much, “you can, uh, kiss me now.”

Nagi is getting very tired of awkward silences after strange declaration.

However, for once, this seems to call up amusement on Mitsuru’s part. The way he chuckles never fails to make Nagi’s hackles rise and this time is no different than all the others.

Smiling, Mitsuru apparently decides that this is the best time to mock him. “Aw, Nagi, is that so? Can you not kiss me yourself?” He seems to pause for dramatic effect here and makes a thoughtful noise. “Although, considering by the way you kissed me yesterday… or can you even call that a kiss?”

Ah, there’s that familiar full-blown fury he feels toward Mitsuru. It’s like coming home. “Shut up, you bastard! That was my first kiss, you know! And- And I bet you can’t do any better!” For emphasis, Nagi makes sure to level a kick at Mitsuru’s shin, surprised when it connects.

He blinks up at Mitsuru, confused about why the bastard didn’t dodge like he usually does, and the way he’s being looked at catches him off guard. “That was your first kiss?” Mitsuru asks in a low tone that Nagi has never heard from his before, and wow, he is suddenly too aware of how close he’s standing to the man.

Subconsciously, he gulps, and nods.

Mitsuru’s lips twitch upwards as if reacting to a private joke, but his eyes don’t lose the heated look that has suddenly appeared in them. “Must not have been a very good one then, huh?” He leans closer to Nagi until there is less than a few inches between them and whispers, “do you want me to make your second one better?”

Nagi’s breath catches. “Yes.”

And just like that, Mitsuru’s lips close the gap between them and it’s everything Nagi has ever wanted. The first thing that he notices among the whirlwind of sensation is how chapped Mitsuru’s lips are against his own and instead of that being uncomfortable, it makes excitement coil in his belly. Mitsuru’s lips are touching his only gently, curiously, as if asking permission, and suddenly Nagi _wants._

He returns the pressure in the kiss. Their lips are the only part of them that are touching, but it’s not enough, so out of instinct Nagi’s hands come up to grasp Mitsuru’s shoulders and pull him closer and suddenly Mitsuru _growls._

In an instant, Nagi feels fingers tangle in his messy black hair, tangling it, and the pressure increases until it’s almost suffocating and almost unconsciously Nagi opens his mouth and- _oh._

Something – Mitsuru’s tongue – invades his mouth and it feels like heaven and hell and everything holy at once. He tastes of coffee and something a little like happiness, and he just takes, pushing Nagi’s tongue back and sweeping his own across his palate in a move that makes Nagi’s knees weak, forcing him to tighten his hold on the broad shoulders and it feels like they’re the only things keeping him upright.

Just as Nagi thinks that this is the best moment of his life, Mitsuru pulls away. Nagi is vaguely aware of himself making a sound of protest and lifting his head to follow, but the tall bastard lifts his head up too easily. Confused, Nagi meets his eyes and sees that his partner’s pupils are blown wide and he looks a little starstruck, probably mirroring his own expression. What Nagi can’t figure out is why he stopped.

“Do you,” Mitsuru starts to ask, then swipes his tongue over his own lips before continuing. Nagi’s eyes immediately zero in on the movement, which he’s pretty sure the other notices, judging by the way his pupils seem to dilate just a little bit more. “Do you want to continue?” Before Nagi can reply that yes, obviously he does, he continues, “You feel so fucking good.” Nagi thinks he whimpers a little at this. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to control myself from taking as much as I can. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Mitsuru’s eyes are fixed on his lips, Nagi notices idly. Narrowing his eyes, he pulls himself up on his tiptoes until he and Mitsuru are nose-to-nose. “Shut up and kiss me,” he practically growls. Mitsuru doesn’t waste a second before complying.

Their lips practically slam together this time as opposed to the gently beginning of the kiss before, and Nagi knows he’s making very embarrassing noises, but can’t bring himself to care right now. Mitsuru’s tongue is dominating his mouth, sweeping across his own slick muscle in a way that is just right and interspersing the motion with slight nibbles against his lip. The hand in his hair is tugging in a way that feels absolutely delicious and he is vaguely aware of taking a step back and then two, Mitsuru not missing a beat as he follows.

A few more steps and Nagi feels something solid behind him, a wall he thinks, and the feeling of being pressed up against a wall while Mitsuru plunders his mouth and tugs his hair is indescribable. He had no idea that this would be so good, fuck, he would have never waited if he had known.

All of a sudden, there’s a new element. Mitsuru’s body is pressing up against his and- fuck, that is a knee between his legs. Nagi makes a keening sound into Mitsuru’s mouth as he feels his crotch being stimulated and fuck, this is so unfair, he didn’t think this could feel any better but suddenly it does. Experimenting, Nagi nudges his own leg forward and feels Mitsuru’s legs and, there. He gently nudges his own leg between Mitsuru’s and is rewarded with the hands in his hair giving a very sharp tug, which whoa, why does the enjoy the pain of that, and Mitsuru making a rough noise in to his mouth.

Then all of a sudden, it stops.

Nagi’s eyes snap open and he doesn’t know when exactly he closed them. Glaring up at Mitsuru, he is more than aware that his tone is bordering on threatening as he snaps out, “Why did you stop?!” Goddammit, there is still a knee between his legs and in vain attempt at stimulation, Nagi grinds down on it, not missing Mitsuru’s sharply sucked in breath as he does so.

The knee immediately retreats and Mitsuru steps back, fast enough that an observer might think Nagi had turned into a demon of some sort. “We- “Mitsuru is clearly struggling against the words. “We need to stop.”

Nagi’s eyes scrunch up in frustration. “Why?” he asks, genuinely confused.

Mitsuru closes his eyes as if praying for patience, against idiocy or lust, Nagi can’t tell. “Because,” he says slowly, “judging by the fact that you’ve barely had your first kiss, I’m pretty sure you’re a virgin. And if we continue, I’ll be very tempted to go farther than… than you’re comfortable with.”

Nagi thinks about that for a moment. Technically, Mitsuru does have a point, he is a virgin. However, he remembers Chiyo’s words about _when_ they have sex instead of _if_ they have sex and thinks about Mitsuru’s mouth on his, his leg between his thighs, and above all, the implicit trust that he grants Mitsuru, unwilling as he may be to admit it on a regular day.

“I want you to take my virginity,” he admits bluntly. When Mitsuru just gapes in what is the most flabbergasted expression Nagi has ever seen him wear, he crosses his arms and actually feels a little annoyed. “I trust you and you’re probably the best choice I have and- and I want to.”

There are a few moments of silence as Mitsuru seems to think this over. Very tentatively, he asks, “Are you sure?”

Nagi squarely meets his gaze. “Yes.” It is the second time he has answered such a question today in that way, and he does not regret either of his answers.

Mitsuru steps a little closer and towers over him, the tall bastard, with a small smile stretching his face. “Well,” he declares in a quiet tone that is different to his lust-filled one before, yet it still makes Nagi’s stomach do somersaults. “I’ll have just to do this right.”

This time, when Mitsuru leans down, it’s nothing like the primal desire before. This time they are slow, mouths opening and tongues tentatively touching each other, even as Mitsuru’s teases Nagi’s into following it and exploring Mitsuru’s mouth in turn. Nagi didn’t know going slow could feel this good and he makes a low noise of content that makes Mitsuru pull away, beaming, and tug him toward a door and into what Nagi presumes is his bedroom, judging by the futon and the piles of messy clothing.

Nagi is gently lowered onto the futon, mouths meeting each other again in a way he almost calls loving, and he sprawls back on the sheets as Mitsuru leans above him. He ends up laying down with Mitsuru above him, holding up his weight on his hands, careful not to lay on his smaller companion and Nagi feels oddly touched by this.

Slowly, clothes are removed, and it almost feels like a dream. The first to go is Nagi’s shirt, gently lifted off by Mitsuru, Nagi making a noise of protest as their lips are temporarily forced to separate in order to remove the article of clothing. Then Nagi tugs at Mitsuru’s shirt in a commanding manner and Mitsuru chuckles as he draws back to throw it off. Nagi takes a moment to admire the toned chest underneath. Yep, he chose well.

They are back together now, mouths gently meeting and fingers curiously exploring each other’s chests, hair, faces. Nagi’s fingers curl in Mitsuru’s hair and he admires the way the tousled curls feel. How does he keep his hair that soft?

It is Nagi’s pants and underwear that are removed first, and he angrily rips off his socks, turning back to a laughing Mitsuru and silencing him with a forceful lip lock. He can still feel the bastard laughing in his mouth, though. When Nagi removes the rest of Mitsuru’s clothing he makes sure to run his fingers down Mitsuru’s shaft as revenge, hiding his hesitance over touching another man’s junk, especially considering the fact that Mitsuru seems to be bigger than him, and is rewarded by a frustrated growl and Mitsuru pressing their groins together, which is just. Wow. Nagi can’t describe how great that feels.

It is Mitsuru that takes both of them in hand, stroking them together, and leans down by Nagi’s ear to whisper, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” It is because of this that Nagi feels secure enough to wrap his hands in she sheets and throw his head back, letting out unashamed moans as the pressure builds. Then Mitsuru kisses him, everything about him gentle yet pleasurable, and Nagi comes undone in a flicker of white lights and mind-blowing pleasure. He swears he hears angels sing because this is the biggest revelation he has ever had, and everything just feels perfect.

Content in his aftermath, he is distantly aware of Mitsuru finishing himself off above him and then more stickiness joins the one on his chest. Nagi feels Mitsuru embrace him and hugs him back, closing his eyes. He is unaware of falling asleep until Mitsuru wakes him up with a wet washcloth and cleans the mess off him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

It feels like Nagi is thanking him for so much more than wiping him off and he hopes Mitsuru knows that. He sees himself being smiled down on and lifts himself up to press a gentle kiss to Mitsuru’s lips, reveling in the sensation. He is distantly aware that in the morning, he will probably feel bad about not doing any work to contribute to Mitsuru’s climax. He’ll probably end up panicking and running to Chiyo and hiding with Akane again as he tries to navigate this strange new terrain.

It doesn’t matter though, as he and Mitsuru lay side by side, staring into each other’s eyes with gentle grins on their faces. They’ve weathered worse storms before and if Nagi is sure of one thing, it’s that their partnership will survive no matter what. And so, he and Mitsuru fall asleep side by side, their whole bodies touching and them nuzzling each other.

It feels like they have both finally come home.


End file.
